


The Tale of the Doomed Detective

by AlessNox



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Alligators & Crocodiles, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Drabble Sequence, Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlessNox/pseuds/AlessNox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is foretold that Sherlock Holmes will die in one of three ways: By snake, by dog, or by crocodile. Mycroft Holmes wants to make sure that never happens.</p><p>A retelling of the ancient Egyptian Tale of the Doomed Prince done in the 221b style.<br/>Written for the Doomed Prince Challenge at Mrs Hudson's Kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A curious babe

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who don't know, a 221b drabble is a special writing style used in the Sherlock fandom.  
> Each story has exactly 221 words and the last word begins with a B.  
> My word checker started acting up at the last minute, so if you find a chapter where the number is off, please tell me so that I have a chance to fix it.  
> Thanks  
> AN

1.

Once upon a time there was a very smart young boy named Mycroft. Although he was nearing his sixth birthday, he had no playmates, at least none that could match his startling intelligence, but then, his mother became with child, and in time she gave birth to a son whom she named Sherlock.

The child grew very fast, and it soon became clear that he too was very intelligent. The boy took great pleasure in his brother and took him with him on walks around the grounds of their house, but Sherlock was curious, and reckless. He got into danger often, and the boy had to save him again and again.

One day, after Sherlock had fallen into a stream and almost drowned, his mother made an ultimatum.

"Mycroft, you can't keep taking Sherlock out into the world. At this rate, he will meet with a sudden death before the age of three. Every day I expect to find him mauled by a dog, bitten by a snake, or knowing his luck killed by a crocodile after sneaking into the zoo. He's going to have to stay inside!"

So Sherlock was taken to the country home where he could be well guarded. He was surrounded by nurses, servants, and every luxury, but he was not allowed to leave the house's boundaries.

2.

When Sherlock was old enough to walk and talk and do simple algebra, he evaded the servants and climbed onto the roof. From there he saw a man coming toward the house followed by a large furry beast. Sherlock had never seen an animal up close, so he ran downstairs and rushed to the door where the man had come to ask for directions. He ran past the butler onto the porch, and looked closely at the furry red creature.

"What is it?" he said.

"Haven't you ever seen a dog before?" the man asked.

Sherlock sat on his knees and stared until the dog came over and licked him on his face. He smiled and asked the man. "How do you get it to follow you?"

"I don't know," the man said. "He just does. I guess it's because he likes me. I've had him since he was a little puppy."

"Is that how you get someone to like you? Keep them from when they were a puppy?"

"Worked for me," the man said.

"Well, Mycroft has had me since I was a puppy, but I don't always like him."

The man laughed, and soon went on his way.

So Sherlock begged and begged until Mummy gave him a puppy. And he wasn't lonely anymore because Redbeard loved the boy.

3.

Boy and dog grew to be tall and strong, and the boy cried out to his parents. "Why do you keep me inside the house? I am not a child!"

Mycroft echoed the words of their mother, "You are a curious boy, Sherlock. Left to your own devises, you will be mauled by a dog, or bitten by a snake, or killed by a crocodile."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mycroft," Sherlock said.

There are no Crocodiles closer than one hundred miles.

"Of course," Mycroft said. "By design."

But Sherlock argued. "Am I not soon to be a man? What kind of life will I have if you hold me here? I will have never lived at all?"

So they made arrangements that the next year, he would leave home and go away to school.

As Sherlock was nearing time to leave, however, Redbeard became ill. Sherlock sat by his side day by day petting his fur. When time came to leave, he refused to go. The next morning, he woke to find his dog's bed empty.

"Where is Redbeard?" he asked.

Mummy said, "he's been set away to a farm where they can better care for him."

So Sherlock packed his bags and left, as Mycroft watched in silence.

And no one told him that he had left his dog's grave behind.

4.

Mycroft had missed his brother greatly, and was pleased when he returned home at last. He held out his arms to greet him, but Sherlock passed him by searching instead for his dog.

"Do you have no greeting for your brother after being so long away?" Mycroft asked.

"I've no time for you, Mycroft," Sherlock said. "Where is Redbeard? Surely he should be back by now?"

Mycroft's heart was moved to anger, and he said, "Use your skills of deduction brother. Did you see anyone take Redbeard away? If you wish to find your dog, seek him beside the great elm."

Sherlock's face became white, and he rushed from the house. There, beside the old elm, he found Redbeard's grave.

Tears flowed from his eyes as he knelt beside it, for Redbeard had been his true friend. "I'm sorry," Mycroft said. "I thought that after all of this time, you would have deduced it."

Sherlock turned away from Mycroft. "You lied to me. I would have stayed by his side until the end, but you took that from me. Now, I will rule my own destiny."

That night, Sherlock told them all that he would go find his fortune in London. "But there are crocodiles in the London Zoo!" Mycroft cried. Sherlock ignored him and went upstairs to pack his bags.

5.

 

Sherlock moved into a small flat on Montague street and everyday he would walk around the city. He wanted to know London intimately, so he entered shops and asked questions listening carefully to everything but leaving without making a purchase. At night, however, he was lonely. He didn't used to be lonely, not since he had Redbeard. Just knowing that he was at home had been enough for him before, but now the darkness closed in around him, and his flat felt like a prison. But worse, his mind felt like one, for he could never leave behind his sadness.

Always restless, he visited posh places and poor places, safe neighborhoods, and dangerous ones. He wanted to be liked, so he learned to mimic the people around him. One day, someone offered him a snort of cocaine. He had never taken drugs before, but he found that he liked it. It made his thoughts go so much faster. He spent time with the man only long enough to find out how to get the cocaine on his own. Then he alternated between exploring the city and exploring his mind.

Sherlock discovered that he was no longer lonely. He found that if he had cocaine, he didn't need friends. He settled on a seven percent solution, taken in the evening before bed.

6.

One evening Sherlock walked into a pub and overheard a group of policemen talking about a woman murdered in an office tower. He asked if he could sit with the group. They welcomed him to the table and even bought him a beer. The junior detectives were excited because the chief inspector had said that whosoever could solve the murder would get a promotion.

The woman beside him asked, "Where do you come from?"

Sherlock said, "My mother is dead and my father's new wife wanted none of me, so I came here. My name is Sherlock Holmes."

"Hi, I'm Sally Donovan," she said brushing her hair away from her face.

"Can you tell me what happened, Sally?"

"Vice President, aged 43, single, shot and killed in her locked office on the 70th floor. I think they shot her through a window. I took a photo on my phone, see?"

Sherlock looked at the image on Sally's phone. "Impossible to shoot through those windows. Skyscraper windows are extra thick and they are made not to open. Even if they did, the breezes are too severe to allow one to aim. Someone shot her from in the room. But look at the wall of her office. That's how the killer got out, it's obvious!"

"What's obvious?"

"The killer left through the bar."

7.

Sally took Sherlock to the detective in charge of the case. Sherlock pointed at the image, as he talked to the man. "This is the Wilkins built in bar. Apparently a seamless wall of steel and glass, but when they are installed, an access panel is cut on the other side of the wall for service.

"The murderer simply had to loosen the bolts to the access panel and wait inside the office. After he had killed her, he climbed through the wall, pushing the panel away, and then refastened it. That stainless steel is sure to hold his fingerprints. Find who had the time and the tools, and you'll have found the murderer."

The detective took Sally and Sherlock before the chief inspector who asked, "Who is this officer?"

"He is no policeman," Sally said.

"Then why did you give him access to classified materials? I am putting this on your record, Donovan. Lestrade, take this man away!"

Lestrade escorted Sherlock out, but not before he gave him his card. "That's some first rate detective work that you did there," he said. "If you feel like helping with some other cases, I'm sure that I can get you permission to work with us, on a consulting basis, mind."

Lestrade shook his hand and left, but Sherlock had stolen his badge.


	2. Chapter 2

8.

Lestrade arranged things so that he was allowed to consult on cases. He also solved cases privately if they were interesting enough. He opened a Chinese puzzle box for a lady revealing a jewel worth millions, and a letter worth even more. In reward, the woman gave him several thousand pounds that he used to buy a new wardrobe and a long Belstaff coat.

At night, he would still partake of cocaine. The needle pierced his flesh like the fangs of a snake. One evening when he had no cases, and Lestrade had not called, he sat alone in his room and thought, _"Is this to be my life? Will I always be alone and unloved. Sally Donovan hates me now. The others are little better. Now that I no longer try to mimic others, they don't care to spend time with me. Why even bother going on?"_

He lay against his chair as he shot up, and the world exploded in a fire of brilliance. Then everything went wrong. He crawled across the floor to reach his phone. Somehow he called Lestrade who found him after kicking open his door. When he woke again, he was in a hospital bed and someone was holding his hand. He expected to see Lestrade, but the man sitting beside him was his brother.

9.

Sherlock pulled his hand out of his brother's grasp, and turned away. When he turned back, Mycroft was gone. He watched the door for his return, but Lestrade entered instead. He was furious.

"I went out on a limb for you," he said. "I told the chief inspector that if he would not let you consult, I would resign. How dare you jeopardize that by taking drugs! Do you even care about detective work?"

"Of course I care," Sherlock said. "The work is dearer to me than a wife ever could be."

"Then you've got to give up the drugs. If I ever find you on drugs again, I'm cutting you off. No more work. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Sherlock said, "There will be no more drugs. I promise."

After two months in detox, Sherlock returned to his flat to find an eviction notice. He needed to find another place to live. A former client, Mrs Hudson, had a flat to rent, but he'd need a flatmate to afford it. He mentioned this to a doctor of his acquaintance one morning when he was working in the morgue. Before the day was over, the doctor had returned with his friend. So Sherlock met John Watson, the man destined to become his best friend, while working in the lab at St. Barts.

10.

Mycroft had left Sherlock's bedside, but he was still resolved to protect his brother from the dangers of the world. He captured John Watson and interrogated him to see what kind of man he was. When he was satisfied that he was not a threat, he let him go.

Sherlock was a reckless creature still. He didn't understand the dangers of the world that he lived in. London was a lake brimming with dangerous creatures. Mycroft swam in this lake and fought the monsters there. His position in the British government gave him the power of a giant, but he was preoccupied with his own battles. It was hard for him to keep an eye on Sherlock and make sure that he stayed out of trouble.

When he heard that someone had abducted Sherlock and tried to kill him. He rushed to the scene only to find the villain was already dead. He saw his brother amongst the flashing lights, and he knew from a glance that John Watson had killed the man. Watson had protected Sherlock when Mycroft had not been there. Sherlock liked Watson. He smiled at him as warmly as he had once smiled at his dog, Redbeard. And Mycroft wondered. "Could this fellow protect Sherlock in Redbeard's place? Can I trust this man to guard Sherlock's back."

11.

Now Mycroft had heard of a threat in the land, and it was called, Moriarty. He fought this shadow power with his plots, his cameras, and his spies. Every so often, he would check on Sherlock to find that he was happy with his work and his friend, John.

When the house across the street from Sherlock's flat exploded, Mycroft rushed to see him. He concealed his concern by offering him a case to solve. Sherlock did not want to solve it, seeing through Mycroft's feeble cover, but John was interested. He investigated the theft himself, while Sherlock was busy elsewhere. But even as he appeared to show no concern, Sherlock was watching over John, ultimately helping him to solve the case, even as he worked on his own.

Sherlock agreed to go to a pool alone, in the hope that he would catch the criminal and solve his case. But the case was not what it appeared to be. For the one who was to meet Sherlock beside the pool was none other than Moriarty himself. Mycroft had been caught sleeping, and Sherlock had walked straight into a trap.

"I am going to kill you," he said, in a voice cold, and cruel as he stood beside the pool smiling like a crocodile at John Watson all covered in bombs.

12.

Their situation was dire. It appeared they all would die by fire. Then Moriarty received a call, and slithered back to the place from whence he had come. Sherlock and John were spared to live another day. When Sherlock was home again, he fell upon his bed, wondering how and why they had escaped.

Moriarty filled his thoughts, but Sherlock made a decision. "My life is mine to choose," he said, "and so is my death. I will decide how I will go. I will not be ruled by fate."

Death was ever near now, always ready to take him, and he wondered which it would be: The snake, the crocodile, or the dog. He didn't understand how the dog could end his life, that is until Moriarty returned. They stood on the roof of Bart's hospital as he explained that John would die, if Sherlock didn't take his own life.

So Sherlock fell to his death leaving his friend behind. He fell, and all believed him dead, but he was not. He had disguised himself so that he could swim secretly through the seas of crime, searching for those who had plotted against them, and revealing all of Moriarty's crocodile tricks.

John knew none of this. He stood quietly crying beside the grave where he thought that Sherlock was buried.

13.

Sherlock flew from country to country like a storm cloud buoyed by the East wind. Wherever he found something of Moriarty's, he broke it. It took years to dismantle his networks but he finally did. Then he sought to return to his old life with his friend, John.

Moriarty had promised to burn out Sherlock's heart by destroying his friends. Then he had shot himself after telling Sherlock that the hardest thing was staying alive. Sherlock found, however, that the hardest thing is to be rejected by someone that you love.

When he returned, John didn't want to see him again. He felt hurt because Sherlock had lied to him, and disregarded his feelings. Sherlock didn't understand his anger. Hadn't he been protecting John by leaving him behind? Wasn't it normal to leave loved ones ashore? That's what pirates did. He had left Redbeard behind when he had gone to school? Oh... no he hadn't. Redbeard had died.

Sherlock remembered the first dog that he had ever seen trailing behind the man.

"How do you get him to follow you?"

"I don't know, he just does. I guess because he likes me."

Did John like him? Sherlock was sure that he had liked him before, but did he like him still? Once loyalty was lost, could it ever be won back?

14.

Mycroft visited Sherlock's flat to inform him that their parents were coming to town to visit. After years of separation, their family would all be together again. Sherlock was in a good mood. He wanted to play games. Mycroft agreed because he was happy too. It had been so long since he had spent time with his brother without anger, resentment, or pain clouding their interactions.

Sherlock donned a stupid hat and told Mycroft that he needed to find someone to care for. Mycroft stared at him in wonder. Did he not understand? Would he never understand that Mycroft had someone to care for? That Mycroft cared for him?

When he saw Sherlock, he rarely saw the tall thin man with mercurial moods and his father's cheekbones. He saw the curly headed youth running across the lawn with his dog. Or else, he saw the toddler teetering toward the edge of the running brook. How could he not watch out for him? How could he not be concerned for his welfare?

Sherlock had defined his life simply by existing, he had made him a big brother, and so much of what he had accomplished was simply an extension of that role. His current position stemmed from his need to guard and protect. To some, he was the very embodiment of Britannia.


	3. Chapter 3

15.

Alone in 221b, Sherlock considered his life. The work had been enough before he had gone on this quest, that is before he had 'died'. But being a dead man gives one a new perspective on life. He had stood over the bodies of men and women who had made money their goal in life. So many of them had died surrounded by material things (gold, jewels, houses, cars) but when they had died, these things no longer had value for them. He remembered Moriarty's despair. He had felt that despair before when a needle was the only way to make it through the night. Now, he sat in his chair, and death was the farthest thing from his mind.

What good was money, or cars, or even fame? Fame had done him no favors. Even now many people still believed in his guilt. When he thought of the work needed to rebuild his reputation, he hardly cared. His thoughts kept returning to one moment in time. Moriarty's death on the roof top had been very different to his own faked death on the pavement, because whereas Moriarty had died alone facing off his enemy, Sherlock had 'died' with a friend holding his hand.

So Sherlock resolved that when John Watson finally did die, he would hold his hand right back.

16.

He shouldn't have worried. He shouldn't have feared. John could no more stay mad at Sherlock than he could stop breathing at will. No matter how hard you try to hold your breath, eventually the air slips back in. With tentative steps, they came back together to find that love transcends death, or faked death in this case. Sherlock started his work again, and John helped him when he could.

He helped John to get married. John helped him with his work. He revealed to John great threats. John saved his life, again. The days were full of drama and full of threat, but Sherlock and John never doubted each other's love again. That should be the end of the story, but it's not.

Sherlock thought that he had destroyed everything of Moriarty's, so he was shocked when he saw his face again on a television screen. He found his message when he was alone. When he read it, he was sure that it was real. It said...

_"Beloved Sherlock, somehow you saved your friends, but you will not succeed a second time, because they are already dead. Poison, with a coating that takes years to decay. It is almost time. You will notice the symptoms soon. I have an antidote but it will cost you the life of your brother."_

17.

 John entered then and sat in his chair. He lay his head back, his hand on his stomach.

"How do you feel?" Sherlock asked.

"Not that good," John replied, "Thanks for asking. Is something wrong? It's not normal for you to ask, Sherlock?"

"I'm reading up on accidental Radon poisoning, and I was afraid that we might all be... susceptible."

"For God's sake, Sherlock! Did you do this? I thought we agreed, no radioactive chemicals in the flat! I had better go check on Mrs Hudson." John rose to his feet and went to get his bag.

One hour later, they arrived at Barts so that Sherlock could use the lab to run some tests.

Sherlock called Mike Stamford and had him examine them both. They had similar symptoms, but the cause was unknown. That wasn't true. Moriarty had known. Sherlock supposed that he would contact him soon with instructions.

He went downstairs to find a strange young man in the morgue.

"Where is Molly?" Sherlock asked him rudely.

"Mrs Hooper called in sick," the man said.

Leaving John and Mrs Hudson behind, he called Lestrade and asked him to come to Barts while he left to check on Molly. If Molly had the same symptoms, then someone else had drugged them because Moriarty had not known of her involvement before.

18.

When Sherlock knocked on Molly's door, he heard a shuffling sound, then silence. He spied the shadow of feet under the door, and he knocked again.

"Molly, open the door, I know you're there!" he said.

Molly unlocked the door, letting him inside, before re-locking it. She was still in her pajamas, but she had wrapped a knitted shawl around her shoulders. Her cat ran past her fuzzy slippers as she paced.

"What's wrong, Molly? At work they said that you were sick."

Molly said nothing, but she nodded her head toward the telly. There was an open box wrapped with a black ribbon. Inside was a boxed set of the television show, Glee, and a disk of fairy tales. Sherlock put the fairy tale disk in the player, and a familiar face smiled back at him, a rain cloud behind his head.

"Where did this come from?" Sherlock asked.

"I found it outside my door when I woke this morning," Molly said. They turned back to the screen and watched the man with the crocodile smile.

"Are you ready for the story?" Moriarty said. Molly covered her ears and turned away.

"Now watch out kids! There's an evil woman in this story who will come to a very bad end. Today's story is called The tale of the two brothers."

19.

"Once upon a time, there were two brothers. Now one day, the wife of the older brother asked the younger brother to sleep with her. The younger brother refused, and in revenge, she told her husband who sent men to kill his brother. The younger brother escaped, and he told his older brother what The woman had done. Then the older brother had her killed as all evil, lying women should be killed!"

Moriarty's horrible face filled the screen, and Molly covered her eyes.

"Then the younger brother put his heart in a tree to hide it from harm, but you know that never works. So the gods gave the younger brother a perfect wife, and she knew where his heart was hidden.

"And when the Pharaoh, who looks so good in a crown, took that wife away from the younger brother, she told him of the tree where the younger brother had hidden his heart. Then the Pharaoh's men cut down the tree and the heart was destroyed, and this caused the younger brother to die. Poor boy!

"The older brother saw the body of his younger brother, but there was no resurrecting him this time. The End.

"And what is the moral of the story, kids? If you try to trick the Pharaoh, there will be Blood, blood, blood!"


	4. Chapter 4

20.

"He's come for me, he wants me dead," Molly said with a shiver, but Sherlock shook his head.

"He's not alive," Sherlock said with a smile. "This was made years ago. I can tell by the disk, and The Woman isn't you. He meant this for Irene Adler. I saved her life, and then she helped me fight him."

"Then why is it at my door?"

"He must have helpers who are still alive. Do you feel ill at all, Molly?"

"Other than being afraid, no. I feel fine."

"Then he was telling the truth. He poisoned them years ago, and left someone around to deliver his messages in case we escaped his web. Well, this is wonderful!"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because that means that we don't have Moriarty to fight, only one of his followers."

"Is that any better?"

"You met Moriarty, don't you think it's better not to have to fight him?"

"I see," she said. "But what does this mean?"

"It means that my brother informed the terror cell where to find Irene Adler, and it means that Mary Watson is one of Moriarty's spies."

"Mary worked for Moriarty! Are you sure? When you tell John, it will shatter him!"

"John will survive," Sherlock said. "This isn't the first time that his heart has been broken."

21.

Sherlock texted Mary.

_**[John forgot his health pamphlets needed in surgery because Jeopardy on telly. RB antiseptic cream mole remover cures active herpes lesions.]** _

"What is that?" Molly asked.

"A skip code. Read every third word."

" _John health in jeopardy RB mole active._ RB?"

"Richard Brook. And a mole is a spy."

"But if she works for Moriarty, will Mary help?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm certain of it."

He met her on Waterloo bridge.

"Do you know who the mole is?" Sherlock asked.

"Maybe," Mary said. "What's wrong with John?"

"Poison."

"How?"

"Slow release capsules, embedded in bone. They thought that they were getting a flu shot."

"And the price for his life?"

"Mycroft."

"Then give them Mycroft!"

"They'd kill John anyway."

"I see...Then what am I looking for?"

"The antidote is a biological. It will be stored in liquid nitrogen. I need three vials."

"For Mrs Hudson and Lestrade?"

"Yes. Could be dangerous."

Mary smiled. "I'll get it, just don't tell John."

Sherlock stood and hailed a taxi back to the hospital.

Twenty hours later, a dark-haired young man passed him an envelope with the antidote. John was saved. Yet when he was discharged, he returned home to an empty flat. He turned to Sherlock with fear in his eyes. Then Mycroft arrived to take John to view Mary's body.

22.

Despite all of the lies and deception, Mary had truly loved John. She had cut the last strings in Moriarty's web of crime at the cost of her own life. John stood at her grave side, his shoulders bent in grief. He honestly didn't know if he could survive another funeral.

Sherlock stayed at his side. He took him home to Baker street, and made sure that he was fed and cared for. John had done it so often for him, it seemed good to finally get a chance to return the favor.

Day flowed into day, and soon years had past. John regained his health and happiness, but he never again married. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson became legends in London until Sherlock decided to retire. He said that there were no more truly interesting crimes, and bees had become an interest that he wanted to pursue, but everyone knew that he moved to Sussex to better care for his best friend, John.

In the ripeness of age, John died in his bed with Sherlock holding on to his hand. Then it was Sherlock's time to stand beside a grave, and if a tear streaked down his face, no one remarked upon it. He dropped a rose into the earth and felt alone, then Mycroft touched his shoulder from behind.

23.

Years later, Mycroft returned to erect a stone beside John Watson's grave for his brother. He had no body to bury. Sherlock had donated his to science, and Mycroft felt the irony of standing beside another empty grave.

After the service, he sat down in his wheeled chair, and let his grand niece, Mary Watson Holmes roll him back toward his car. In his old age, he was considered a national treasure, and he regularly consulted with the King and the Prime Minister in his role as Strategist Emeritus of Great Britain. He had Mary stop so that he had time to get his thoughts in order.

"It was the snake that got him in the end," he said. "An adder startled him when he reached into a woodpile. He fell back suddenly and hit his head on a rock. I should have done something. I should have had the grounds searched. I wanted so much to keep him safe."

"You did," Mary said. "He was seventy nine when he died. You wanted to keep him home forever. The world is a better place because you let Sherlock find his own fate."

"You are right," Mycroft said. "Fate is a folly of the mind. One should never fear to live. When one lives a good life, even death is no barrier."


End file.
